Discoveries
by Baggie Bird
Summary: It is 3 years after Elinor's marriage to Edward and Marianne's marriage to Colonel Brandon. Her younger sister, Margaret is now 16 and ready for marriage? She is independent and isn't really interested in a husband...yet!
1. Chapter 1

It is only by travelling the globe that we are able to appreciate different cultures and learn of the events faced by those born outside of our own neighbourhoods. Margaret Dashwood had travelled very little outside of her own imagination in her short life. Born at Norland Park in Sussex, she had made the journey to Barton Cottage in Devonshire, following the death of her father, and that had been the limit of her physical journeys.

In her mind, however, she had climbed snow-capped mountains and sailed across stormy seas; she had crossed deserts and slaked her thirst in lakes that stretched further than the eye could see. She was completely fascinated by the geography of the world and, although grateful for the opportunity to study the atlas of the world and many other books in her brother-in-law's library, she longed to experience these sights and places for herself.

It was three years since Marianne had married Colonel Brandon and in those years, Margaret had grown into a beautiful and confident young woman. Her chestnut brown hair fell to her waist in natural curls; her big brown eyes sparkled with enthusiasm when her interest was caught by a new discovery; and her smile shone brightly in her oval face. Her previous excessive sensibility had given way to sense as Margaret and her mother had spent a great deal of her time in the Colonel's house and company. The quality of conversation and thought that she had been exposed to during this time had opened her mind to all manner of new ideas and concepts and she was always eager to learn more from those willing to share experiences and knowledge with her.

Margaret sighed as her mother's voice disturbed her thought and recalled her to her present circumstances. Her imagination had been most active that morning, as she had travelled to Italy and worked her way from the mighty Alps in the North, passed Lake Garda, afforded a passing glance at the Arena in the ancient city of Verona, before moving on to Florence where she had imagined herself to be a daughter of the Renaissance. She was just leaving Tuscany with the intention of moving towards Rome, when her mother called to her, shaking her out of her reverie.

It had taken Mrs. Dashwood no fewer than three attempt to get her youngest daughter to respond to her. This was not the result of disobedience on Margaret's part, more a measure of the degree of her absorption in her occupation. It took some time for Margaret to recall her exact whereabouts and the time of day. Italy slowly disintegrated to be replaced by an English mansion house in Delaford.

Mrs. Dashwood clucked and fussed over Margaret as she entered the dark wood-panelled hallway from the library where she had been travelling the globe. Margaret had been enjoying the afternoon sun in her favourite chair in a south facing alcove, and it took some time for her eyes to adjust to the dim light as she passed through the door. Margaret allowed her mother to tame a stray curl that had escaped and smoothed her dress into some semblance of neatness.

"What were you thinking, Margaret? You should have been in the Drawing Room half an hour ago." her mother almost hissed at her, displaying a desperation that was so unlike her gentle mother that Margaret looked at her in astonishment.

"Whatever is the matter, Mama?" She asked in a puzzled tone. She had no idea why her mother was fussing over her so intently. He listened to the sounds of voices coming from the drawing room. "Surely it's only Sir John and Lady Middleton?" She listened again, "Oh, and Mrs Jennings."

"And Lady Stanton is also here." Her mother muttered in an undertone. Margaret's eyes widened a little as she understood a little better her mother's concern. Lady Stanton was a fierce old dragon of a lady who owned much of the land adjacent to Colonel Brandon. She was infrequently seen in company, preferring to remain at home, where she ruled her husband and her servants with a sharp tongue and an iron fist.

Margaret had never met the woman before, but Marianne had assured her that she was a formidable character, being both inclined to ask questions of a demanding nature and ungracious in her responses. Margaret was not the type of girl to be frightened by a challenging old woman, even if she was a member of the landed gentry whose family stretched back for generations, but she did not relish being interrogated all afternoon.

"What is she doing here, Mama?" she asked her mother in a resigned, rather than fearful tone.

"I'm not sure, my dear, but she has upset poor Marianne's plans most dreadfully. It is really inconsiderate of her." Her mother was indignant and Margaret smiled fondly at her.

Mrs Dashwood entered the large Drawing Room with Margaret following. After Magaret had been greeted enthusiastically by the other guests, and teased by Sir John about her lateness, she brought her youngest child before Lady Stanton for her inspection. She was sitting in the most comfortable chair in front of the large fireplace. Margaret curtsied gracefully and smiled politely while the old woman peered at her through her pince-nez. Margaret took the opportunity to form her own opinion of the woman in the chair before her.

Lady Stanton was a small woman with the pale skin of a woman who spends little time outdoors. Her hair, which had once been so dark as to appear black, was now liberally replace with grey, and it had been drawn back into a plain and severe bun which did little to soften the woman's harsh and bony features. Margaret was not impressed with her initial observations and she had grown tired of smiling long before the other's scrutiny was complete, but drew upon all her reserves of good manners and remained calm and dignified throughout.

"She doesn't have your looks, Marianne." The old woman didn't exactly cackle, but she came close to it, Margaret thought as she gazed at her. She waited respectfully for her to continue. "Well, do you play the piano, too? Your sister is thought to perform adequately, I have heard."

Margaret scarcely knew how to reply to this. Marianne was known throughout the neighbourhood as being a highly accomplished pianist. She was tempted to defend her, but then, on meeting Marianne's eyes as she looked over to her, she decided that the old woman was just trying to make mischief.

"No, I don't play well at all, your Ladyship." Margaret replied simply and emotionlessly. Lady Stanton looked a little surprised at her abruptness. She continued her questioning,

"Do you draw? Or do you prefer sewing?" Her enquiry irritated Margaret who did neither of these, not through lack of ability, but an unwillingness to spend her time employed in a manner which did not interest her.

"No, Ma'am, I do neither." Again, Margaret spoke without further explanation which aggrieved Lady Stanton who demanded brusquely, and even a little rudely,

"Do you have no talents then, Miss Dashwood?"

Margaret was pondering this question and trying to frame a suitable reply when her brother in law interrupted the conversation.

"Margaret's talents are intellectual, Lady Stanton." He informed the older woman pleasantly. "She speaks French and Italian and is becoming most knowledgeable about the geography of the world."

"Geography!" The word was spat out of Lady Stanton's mouth as if it were something excessively distasteful to her. "What use is Geography to a woman? You'll be telling me that she is studying mathematics next." Colonel Brandon smiled in amusement at her horror and raised his eyebrows at his wife. Marianne responded by calmly pulling the bell located next to the fireplace to summon the servants.

Lady Stanton looked around the room until she could see Mrs Dashwood. "My dear woman, what are you thinking of? Geography! Whatever next! What husband wants his wife to know about geography? How will that help her run a household?"

Mrs. Dashwood was at a loss as to how to reply to Lady Stanton. Indeed it was a question she had asked herself a number of times, but had been unable to find a solution. At an age of sixteen, most girls were interested in coming out and dancing at balls; in conquests and rich husbands, but as she had grown older, Margaret had displayed an independence of thought and was disinclined to consider marriage. With her sisters' marriages, it was no longer of material importance for Margaret to marry well and so she pursued her own interests.

"It will probably help me as much as being able to play the piano helps Marianne." The words were out of Margaret's mouth before she could stop herself. She could tell by the shocked expression on Lady Stanton's face that it had not been a good response. The woman was clearly unused to anyone disagreeing with any of her opinions. Her eyes narrowed and she looked as if she was about to launch into a tirade of abuse aimed at Margaret when Marianne came to Margaret's rescue by announcing that the servants were ready to bring tea in.

Colonel Brandon took the opportunity to inquire after Lord Stanton while the servants were in the room and Sir John, who had overheard Margaret's ill-judged response, beckoned her over to him so that she would be out of Lady Stanton's direct line of fire when the servants left from the room.

Mrs Jennings began talking loudly to Marianne about her dear daughter, Charlotte and her youngest grandchild who was just recovering from a bout of the measles. Margaret smiled to herself when she saw how civilly Marianne responded to her conversation now; marriage must have mellowed her, she thought. It didn't seem that long since Marianne had found the other woman to be little more than ridiculous.

The conversations ebbed and flowed as tea was taken. Lady Stanton appeared to have forgotten Margaret and Mrs. Dashwood was intensely grateful for this, she was worried what her daughter might say if pressed further by the old woman. She was mistaken in this supposition, however, for Lady Stanton rarely forgot anything and was merely allowing herself time to watch Margaret as she conversed with the others in the room.

A short time after tea had been cleared away; Lady Stanton rose to take her leave of Colonel Brandon. He made as if to follow her from the room, but she brushed him away, saying,

"No, not you, Brandon, Miss Dashwood can accompany me to my carriage." She turned her beady eyes on Margaret who raised her head in horror to look back at her. Margaret heard her mother gasp in horror as she rose to stand. Lady Stanton crooked her finger at her, beckoning Margaret to her side.

"Come here, Miss Dashwood, I require your assistance to walk to my carriage." The words were spoken without emotion; neither warmth nor censure; and Margaret had to breathe in deeply before she could summon the courage to move towards the older woman.

She felt everyone's eyes on her as she offered her arm to Lady Stanton and she felt acutely self-conscious with every step that they took from the room. The woman said nothing to her as they progressed to the front door and Margaret began to relax slightly as the stepped outside. She felt bony fingers tighten on her arm as they reached the steps; she noticed Lady Stanton's carriage below them and ventured to ask,

"Would you prefer me to summon your footmen, my lady?" in a soft voice. Lady Stanton responded by clutching even harder and drawing herself closer to Margaret.

"No, Miss Dashwood, although I am sure you would prefer it." Her voice had a trace of amusement in it and Margaret looked down at her in astonishment. There was no doubt about it, Lady Stanton was almost smiling. Margaret looked away and continued the slow walk down the steps.

As they reached the carriage, Lady Stanton's footmen moved forwards, unbidden, to help. Margaret extricated her arm from the other's grasp and was about to step back when the old woman said,

"My grandson is visiting us next week. I think it would be a good idea for you and your mother to come to dinner at Stanton to meet him." Margaret looked at her in surprise, her mouth was suddenly dry and she could not speak. "I will send the carriage at 6 o'clock on Thursday," the old woman continued. "Will that be convenient?"

Margaret managed to rouse herself enough to nod and reply,

"Yes, ma'am. I am sure we have no previous engagement."

The footmen settled Lady Stanton into her carriage. She leant forward and looked at Margaret before saying,

"Very well then, Miss Dashwood. We will expect you on Thursday."

With that, she gave an imperious signal to her footmen and the coachman urged the horses forward. Margaret stood watching the carriage move down the driveway before turning to re-enter the house and impart the news of their forthcoming visit to her mother.


	2. Chapter 2

Margaret re-entered the Drawing Room in a state of slight confusion, with questions buzzing around inside her head, unsettling her. Why had Lady Stanton invited them to dinner? Why did she want to introduce them to her grandson? What would everyone say? What would she wear?

Faces were turned towards her as she opened the door and Marianne was the first to speak,

"Did you see her all the way to her carriage, Margaret?" Her hostess's instinct overriding her natural curiosity. Margaret replied in the affirmative, but added nothing else to the conversation; indeed she looked almost unaware of the others in the room. Marianne looked at her in surprise. It was unusual for Margaret to be unresponsive.

"Did she want you to walk her to her carriage for any particular reason?" Marianne continued to press her.

"She invited Mama and me to dinner on Thursday." Margaret spoke slowly and quietly and was aware of a hush descending over the room as her words sank in. "She is sending the carriage for us at 6."

Mrs Dashwood rose from the couch where she was seated next to Lady Middleton and approached her daughter.

"She wants us to go to Stanton for dinner?" She looked appalled at the prospect, and then added, "despite you being so rude to her?"

Margaret smiled at her mother,

"I wasn't really rude, was I, Mama?" She heard Marianne chuckle and looked to her older sister,

"Was I, Marianne?"

"Not rude, so much as undiplomatic." Her sister smiled at her. "I doubt if anyone has questioned anything she has said in years."

Mrs Jennings, who had been desperate to join the conversation, could hold back no longer. She was a fearful gossip and could be relied on to impart all sorts of information about the Stantons and their life.

"You had better eat before you go to dinner, my dears. The Stanton table is very poor." She patted her ample stomach, "I have heard that she quite starves that husband of hers."

Margaret grinned at her, and that was all the encouragement Mrs Jennings required to continue.

"It was once a fine country house, but it is falling to wrack and ruin nowadays. Of course the money is all hers. Stanton had hardly a bean to his name when he married her; his father lost everything but the house and his title at cards, I believe, and they were desperate to find someone with money to enable them to hold on to the house."

Colonel Brandon pointed out that Lady Stanton had lost much of her desire to take her place in society after the death of her only child, Mary and her husband about fifteen years previously.

"The shock was just too much for her; she had doted on Mary; her death had almost ended Lady Stanton's life too." He explained. Margaret began to feel sorry for the grieving old woman, until Mrs Jennings asked about the grandson.

"He was sent to live with the paternal grandparents in Portsmouth." Colonel Brandon replied. "Lady Stanton wanted little to do with him. I think he favoured his father in looks and she blamed that unfortunate man for Mary's death."

"How old was the child when his mother died?" asked Mrs Dashwood, drawn into the story.

"I believe he was about three years old." Colonel Brandon said; his manner thoughtful as he tried to remember back that far. "I don't think I have seen him her since he was about that age."

"Three years old and she abandoned him!" Margaret exclaimed. She was indignant on the child's behalf. "How could she be so cruel?"

"Grief can cause people to react in many different ways, my love." Her mother told her softly. "Lady Stanton was deeply hurt by the death of her daughter, don't judge her too harshly."

Margaret said nothing further, but it was clear from the almost mutinous look in her eyes that she was finding it difficult not to evaluate Lady Stanton's actions over this matter, and that the overriding judgement was that she had behaved in a heartless and uncaring manner towards her young grandson.

Mrs Jennings had been thinking for the last few minutes and then had suddenly come to a conclusion that interested her greatly.

"Eighteen!" She announced, triumphantly.

All eyes turned to her; all were questioning.

"He will be eighteen, this grandson. You mark my words, Miss Margaret, she is thinking of his becoming your beau." Margaret groaned inwardly as Mrs Jennings had found a new target for her matchmaking hobby.

"Don't worry, Margaret." Marianne interjected, "from what we have heard, she probably just wants some help in entertaining the boy. She probably hardly even knows him." Margaret smiled gratefully at her sister. Marianne knew exactly what it was like to be at the focus of Mrs Jenning's raillery and Margaret knew she could rely on her older sister to protect her.

Their visit to Delaford that day ended soon afterwards; Mrs Dashwood wanted to call in on Elinor and her grandchild on their way back to Barton Cottage. Margaret, for once, was glad to be leaving. She loved visiting both of her sisters, but Marianne encouraged her to pursue her own dreams and ideals; she always had time to discuss Margaret's plans for her future and to hear about new places she wanted to visit.

Elinor had always been so much more sensible than either of her sisters, to the point where they both wondered if she had ever had an irrational thought in her life. She was so reliable and steady that Margaret sometimes felt a little scared of her. She was frightened of saying things to Elinor that might lessen her in her sister's eyes; thoughts that Marianne would understand, and even encourage. She was also a little worried that Elinor might agree with Lady Stanton about the geography, but she did not like to ask her opinion, because she was afraid that this might be the case.

She sat next to her mother in silence on the way to Elinor's. Her mother, always sensitive to her children, allowed her to collect her thoughts, and it was only as they stopped before the house that she turned to her daughter and smiled.

"Don't worry, my love. I have found over time that things have a way of working themselves out for the best." Margaret smiled back at her mother and helped her to descend from the carriage. She then turned to greet her sister who had rushed out of the house at their arrival. It appeared that Edward was out visiting parishioners, and Elinor was glad of some adult company.

The next hour was spent in domestic bliss as Elinor's son, Thomas, a fine boy of eighteen months, entertained his grandmother and aunt with all manner of antics. Finally, worn out through showing off his many talents, he had settled on his grandmother's lap and she had rested her cheek on his soft curls as he had cuddled down for a small nap.

Elinor indicated to Margaret to follow her and they collected eggs, and fed the pigs and the hens, while their mother rested.

"Who else was visiting at Delaford, today?" Elinor asked, innocently, but Margaret felt a blush rising in her cheeks.

"Sir John and Lady Middleton were there with Mrs Jennings." She paused slightly before adding, "And Lady Stanton."

"Lady Stanton?" Elinor sounded incredulous. "What on earth was she doing there?"

"I'm not sure why she was there." Margaret replied as honestly as she could without giving anything away. It was true; she did not know why Lady Stanton had chosen that day to visit Delaford.

"Did you speak to her?" Her sister wanted to know everything as usual.

"Yes, she spoke to me a little." Margaret really didn't want to tell Elinor about the geography faux-pas.

"What did you talk about?" Elinor was beginning to sound exasperated, so Margaret yielded a little and gave her some idea of the early conversation.

Elinor raised her eyebrows when Margaret informed her that Lady Stanton had questioned her talents, but she said nothing. Margaret stopped speaking; waiting for her sister to comment, but the conversation was brought to an abrupt end by a cry from the house.

Thomas had awoken, and finding his mother gone, was calling for her. Elinor had to return hurriedly to relieve her mother and Margaret could not help but sigh with relief. She meandered more slowly back the house and then wished she had sped up when she heard her mother's voice from within,

"At 6pm on Thursday. The carriage is being sent for us."

Margaret felt her shoulders droop. What else had her mother said? Elinor sounded perplexed by the invitation, and Margaret entered the room just as she was asking her mother why such an invitation should have been isued.

"It can hardly have been due to Margaret's manners." Her mother informed Elinor. "You won't believe what she said to her."

Elinor turned to look at Margaret through slightly narrowed eyes.

"Oh, I'm sure I won't be that surprised, Mama." She had a slight smile hovering around her mouth and Margaret knew her well enough to be able to sigh with relief. Margaret thought it would be better if she was the one who told Elinor what she had said and so she quickly recounted the last part of her early conversation with Lady Stanton.

To her surprise, Elinor seemed to agree with her, although she was a little concerned that Margaret's outspokenness might get her into trouble.

"Lady Stanton belongs to a different world from ours. Each new generation has new ideas and ideals, Margaret, but we must be careful to show respect to those that have gone before." Then as she saw Margaret about to interject, she raised a hand. "Let me finish. We must show respect, even when they show little respect for ours. In that way, no blame can be attributed to us."

Elinor was correct, as usual, and Margaret had nothing further to add.

The day was drawing to a close as Edward returned home. After exchanging greetings with him, Mrs Dashwood declared her intention of returning to Barton Cottage before darkness descended upon them. Both Edward and Elinor walked with them to the carriage and watched them depart, the latter carrying Thomas who waved to them long after they were out of sight.


End file.
